The gong was still vibrating in the air when the crowd exploded.
Cheers, screams, metallic crashing, a flood of voices and light – everything merged into a single whirlwind.
Lina stood stunned at the edge of the barrier, her fingers still clawed around the cold metal.
Her throat was dry, her legs felt foreign.
Inside the ring, Alaric lowered his fists.
His opponent wobbled, staggered backward – then fell.
The hall erupted.
But Alaric didn't move.
He just stood there, his chest rising and falling too quickly, his shoulders gleaming, blood running in a narrow streak down from his temple.
For a moment, he seemed not to hear the noise of the crowd at all.
Then the rope slipped from under his hand, and he went down on his knees.
"Oh my God..."
Fiona's voice somewhere behind her.
Jonas shouted something, someone pushed forward, but Lina only saw him.
The moment he briefly lost his balance, caught himself, then lost it again.
